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TRP: Mishka and Sam (Calann)
Day 285 Tomas Calann ran a band of mercenaries called the Twin Scimitars. They'd been going around the countryside, in the wake of Bloodgrut the Smartest's little pillaging spree, and offering protection to terrified, poor peasants, and not really delivering on that promise -- not really having to, because there was some guild taking care of the problem already. But the scared farmers and merchants and fishers didn't know that, so Calann had raked in a pretty penny off this scam. It was a good scam. Profitable. Sam was there to kill him, because someone somewhere -- an anonymous benefactor communicating through a proxy -- had offered a high bounty for it, and it seemed like it might be a challenge. It was a garden party at a fancy estate a good ways outside Skyport, which would turn into a hunting party later on, but for now it was just a pleasantly cool afternoon of standing around in a courtyard, surrounded by topiary and assorted mercenaries and the fine people Calann really wanted to associate himself with. He wanted to be nobility, and he wanted to buy his way into it, and throwing a party for the fancy folk was a good way of doing it. That was a good scam, too. Sam looked more the part of the mercenaries dressed up in their best. He'd put in the effort of cleaning himself up, brushing his hair back nicely, and all, letting it flow loose for now, and he'd gotten a loose russet robe of sorts to wear over his usual, slightly old and ragged clothes. Trimmed his beard, even. The lyre and quarterstaff were on his back, as always, but he had a champagne flute in his hand, looking over it from the sidelines, studying the way Calann moved and how much he was drinking. COYOTE Mishka wasn’t sure, exactly, why Tomas Calann deserved to die. Something about extortion— Mishka hadn’t been listening that closely— just paying attention to the way Joan grimaced when she said his name, her mouth twisting downwards the particular way it did when she was upset but didn’t want to show it. And so, Mishka was here. He was pretending to be a drunk, useless nobleman. Specifically, he was pretending to be Lord Darrington II, who Mishka knew was invited, but would not actually be in attendance, because Mishka had murdered him a few weeks ago. He kept roving the party. His clothes itched, and it was hot, but he kept on. He wanted to take the mask off and leave, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Killing Calann would be hard. He was a fighter surrounded by fighters. Some of his mercenaries were dressed in plainclothes, hidden among the partygoers. One of the men— a tough-looking son of a bitch with wild hair and jacked arms— was watching Calann closely. That would be Calann’s head bodyguard, Mishka figured. He watched but didn’t move or approach. Not yet. IZZY Sam noticed one nobleman staring at him in particular, and grimaced towards him vaguely and turned away. COYOTE Mishka polished off his drink, set it down, and headed over. “Pardon me,” he asked, a little too loudly and slurred. “Are you that man’s bodyguard?” IZZY Sam kept grimacing. "What's it to you?" COYOTE “Oh, pardon me. You see, I’m Tarrington— I’m Taryon Darrington the Second. Purveyor of fine mechanical goods. I’m looking for a new bodyguard. You have a good look about you. Competent.” That should pet his ego. Give him a reason to brag. Mishka was good at flattery, and Taryon Darrington was a harmless fool. IZZY He narrowed his eyes. "Thanks." COYOTE Mishka eyed the man a moment. He kind’ve wished he didn’t have to engage this guy as the annoying and drunk Taryon Darrington Senior. He wished he could talk to the guy simply. Man-to-man. Shapeshifter-to-unfriendly-bodyguard. “Not interested?” Mishka asked, leaning so his coin purse caught the light. IZZY "Not particularly," Sam said flatly. COYOTE Huh. Mishka couldn’t imagine any particular reason somebody was loyal to Calann. Maybe he wasn’t actually one of Calann’s mercenaries or bodyguards. Maybe he was just a random noble. Something seemed off about him, though. His slightly out-of-place clothing. He looked like a capable fighter. Weird, Mishka thought. He ought to leave this guy alone. Mishka had misread the situation, somehow. Wasn’t sure how, yet, but it didn’t matter. “Well, sorry to bother you,” he said, feigning offense, then headed off. IZZY Sam grunted and turned away from the pompous noble. He circulated around the party for a little while, having gotten a solid read on Calann. Studied his mercenaries instead. One of them seemed to be his actual bodyguard -- a grim-faced, sober half orc woman -- and there were several lieutenants who appeared to be off-duty and enjoying the festivities. Somehow Sam lost track of one of them. There was a good number of people here -- a lot to keep an eye on -- but he did head counts and definitely came up short. He rubbed his face and blinked a couple times, and shook his head, then lost another. Well, no one would miss them. Maybe they'd crept off into the hedge maze to pair off with some of the nobles -- he wasn't paying those guests so much attention. A few seemed legitimately competent or interesting, but they weren't relevant, so he hadn't really bothered with them. (That Darrington one -- he lost track of that one, too. Also not relevant.) Sam escaped a conversation with an overbearing rich woman and slipped into the hedge maze himself with a flute of champagne -- just into the entrance, so no one would bother him, and he could decompress for a moment. COYOTE Once Mishka was done with the two lieutenants that Joan wanted dead, he changed his guise again. He made himself look like a servant, this time, with loose black hair, dark skin, freckles, and slightly pointed ears. He disliked changing his body too much, because it felt awkward to move around in a body larger or smaller than his own, so he kept his own build this time. It was more of a palette change than a real disguise. He was Mishka, but more human. He walked back into the party as a servant and checked the sundail in the middle of the garden. Only thirty minutes before the hunt started. He went to take a break in the maze, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. Huh. That guy was here. The tense one with the hair. “Hey,” Mishka said, offering him a cigarette. Too late, he remembered this guy had no idea who he was. Oh well. IZZY Sam appraised the servant for a beat. Something was off, here. He took the cigarette, though, and lit it with a finger snap. "Thanks. Shouldn't you be working?" he asked, only curious and not judging. He held his fingers poised to light the other man's smoke as well. COYOTE Mishka held out the cigarette and smiled when the man lit it with another snap. “Yeah,” he said, offering no further explanation. IZZY Sam nodded and gave an mm, approving. COYOTE “Hey. Not trying to be weird or anything, but uh, what’s your deal? Sorry— servants notice weird shit. You look like one of Calann’s mercenaries but I don’t think you are,” Mishka said. “Curious. You just a random hot nobleman who happens to be into fighting and lifting heavy things?” IZZY "I'm a bounty hunter and I'm here undercover to kill someone on the hunt," Sam deadpanned. COYOTE Mishka let out a startled laugh. He hesitated, thought, Is he serious? And then laughed again. The sound attracted a noble nearby who poked her head into the maze and narrowed her eyes at Mishka. “Excuse me,” she said, waving her empty champagne glass. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Mishka grumbled and put out his cigarette. IZZY "Hey," Sam barked at her abruptly. "He is working. He's with me." COYOTE The woman’s face turned pink. She scoffed and headed away. “Assertive,” Mishka said, amused. “I like assertive.” He gave Sam a brief, appreciative look up and down. “Any interest in bossing me around too?” IZZY Sam looked at him with mild annoyance, grunted, and walked deeper into the maze. COYOTE Huh, Mishka thought, startled. He stared after the guy for a moment. Seemed like he was having a hard day. Or maybe he was just this grumpy all the time. Mishka relit his cigarette by snapping his fingers, finished it, then went back out into the party. He had noticed the guy wasn’t eating like everyone else was. (Wasn’t drinking, either. Suspicious. Suspicious.) He went into the kitchen back at the estate, where many servants were bustling around. He put together two bagel sandwiches: one with bacon, ham, turkey, cheese, and lettuce, and the other with four kinds of cheese and one kind of garlic. He put them both a fancy silver tray so it looked like he was doing something, then went back into the maze. IZZY Sam hadn't gone very far into the maze, and was easy enough to find by the quiet sounds of a lyre being played. In a little alcove nestled into the hedges, there was a stone bench for people to rest on, and he set there with his eyes closed, picking out a pretty tune for his own entertainment. COYOTE Mishka paused, wavering. He blinked. He didn’t want to interrupt. The lyre music was… sweet, and soothing. Musically talented. A nobleman’s son, then, likely. Or maybe just a nobleman. Mishka rested against the hedge, eyes lidded, and waited until the man was done playing his lyre. IZZY Sam opened his eyes partway through and watched him without stopping. COYOTE Mishka set the platter down. He held up one of the bagel sandwiches, the one loaded with cheese. He snapped his fingers, and a burst of flame surrounded his hand, toasting the bagel. Mishka did the same thing with the other one, then set them both down and held them out on the platter for the man to choose. IZZY Sam tilted his head in interest. "What do you want?" he asked. COYOTE “Oh, nothing,” Mishka said. “I just feel bad for hitting on you. Sorry. Apology bagel?” IZZY Hm. Sam watched him a moment longer, then straightened, swung his lyre carefully onto his back, and accepted the meaty bagel. "Thanks." COYOTE Good, Mishka thought, pleased. He sat down in the grass and chowed down on his own bagel. Was gonna need food and energy to kill more folks. Staring at the grass, he suddenly noticed his boots had blood on them— just a few flecks. Motherfucker. Mishka called no attention to it, chewing on his bagel and keeping his face impassive. IZZY If Sam noticed, he didn't comment on it. COYOTE Mishka stood up and dusted himself off. “What’s your name?” IZZY "Who's asking?" COYOTE Mishka smiled. “If I give you a name, it’s gonna be fake.” Then he said, “Mishka.” IZZY "Yeah?" He seemed amused. "Why's a servant giving me a fake name? Seems sketchy." COYOTE “I’m a bounty hunter and I’m here undercover to kill someone on the hunt.” IZZY "That's a good scam." COYOTE “It is. I’m wondering if you’re him. Thoughts?” IZZY Sam made an ehh sound. "I think you should probably know who you're here to kill without going around asking everyone's names." COYOTE “This is true,” Mishka said, amused. “I bow to your experience.” He stood up, sweeping a deep bow, then polished off his bagel. “Well. I’ll get your name some other time, then.” IZZY "Mm." Sam nodded to him. "You should clean your boots, by the way." COYOTE Mishka coughed, half to cover a laugh and half because he choked on air. He raised a hand goodbye and turned to go. They would be blowing the horn to start the hunt soon, and he needed a third and final disguise. Servants did not go along with the hunt. IZZY Sam wandered out of the maze once he felt he could tolerate the party again. The mercs and nobles who were going on the hunt had started to gather around, and the other guests fell back to watch politely -- partners and plus-ones and invitees themselves with no stomach for or interest in the sport of it, just there to mingle. Sam joined the hunters, slipping in without really being noticed -- he fit in well with the mercenaries -- and started braiding his hair back into one thick plait while he waited for the horn. They'd brought out the object of the hunt, a wild-eyed and growling fox in a steel cage. They'd let it loose in the expanse of forested wilderness, give it a head start, then release some bloodhounds and give chase. The game field, so to speak, was down a hill from the estate, and the far end of it was demarcated by a small winding river. Sam intended to escape across it once the job was done. COYOTE Mishka waited until the hunt had already started. Then, once no one was around, he headed off. Earlier in the day, he had killed two lieutenants. When he went to check where he’d dumped their bodies-- five hundred feet into the woods inside a hole he’d dug in advance-- he found them undisturbed. Mishka stripped one lieutenant naked, then changed clothes. He paused when he bent to change his boots. His mouth twitched in amusement when he spied the tell-tale flecks on blood on his suede toes. He rubbed the stains thoughtfully with his thumb, then decided to keep them on. It was a hunt. No one would notice the blood. He liked these boots. He finished dressing, then popped the mask on and off to make himself look like one of the lieutenants. He grabbed a stray horse and rode towards the hunt. He found it fast. Calann rode near the back of the hunt, his face flushed with alcohol and eyes unfocused. He seemed content to ride along, watching his guests fight for the honor of bagging the fox, but other times he seemed to suddenly gather the spirit, and he’d ride forward hard, forcing other hunters and horses to dance out of the way. Then Mishka’s eyes focused on something else. It was the man from before. The one who took his cigarette and bagel. The one who played the lyre and refused to introduce himself. Mishka decided, privately, to call him Nameless. It seemed easier than calling him the man who played the lyre. Nameless-- yeah, that was a good nickname, straightforward, sensible-- Nameless wasn’t watching the fox. Nameless was watching Calann. Huh, Mishka thought. IZZY Sam noticed something fucking strange. He noticed that one of those two missing lieutenants showed up again, but the man had blood on his boots. He didn't look like the servant from the maze, but then, he wouldn't, would he? It wasn't important. He put a pin in it and carried on with his job, waiting for Calann to ride ahead of the group, all drunken bluster, and spurred his own horse up ahead with him and his half-orc bodyguard. It'd be difficult to get her away from him. He'd probably have to kill them both, which was an annoyance. COYOTE Mishka slowed his horse to a canter, watching Calann. He knew exactly what he'd do. He'd ready a hold person spell. He'd ride close, shoot Calann, release the spell, and paralyze Calann. Calann would fall from his horse, ideally. Then, in the confusion, Mishka would dismount his horse and calmly go to cut his throat. One he was sure Calann was dead, he'd vanish. In the aftermath, Calann's most trusted lieutenant would be blamed. A coup gone wrong. Of course, they'd go missing after today's party. It relied on Mishka moving really fucking fast, but he was pretty sure he could do it. Mishka concentrated on casting a hold person spell. He leveled the crossbow at Calann's back. Then pulled the trigger. The crossbow bolt sank into Calann's back, and he jerked, startled. The horse jerked as well, confused by its rider. Mishka clenched his fist and released the hold person spell, and Calann stiffened, then toppled over on the saddle. And then the hunting party dissolved into pandemonium. People screamed. Horses bolted. Mishka breathed steadily in and out as he swung himself off his horse and walked patiently over to Calann. IZZY The half-orc bodyguard intercepted him, her battleaxe drawn and a snarl on her face. She was clearly focused -- not interested in the ruckus, keyed in on defending her boss. She seemed about to say something, probably demanding what their lieutenant thought he was doing. Then she shuddered, and her skin rapidly withered, and she seemed to shrink down and almost age at an exelerated rate. She cried out in pain and alarm, and a rush of fire came from behind her. As dried up as she was, she went up like a match and crumpled to the ground, dead and smoking. Sam stood behind where she had been, his quarterstaff out and a boot on the immobilized Calann's back. He looked at Mishka without saying, just raising an eyebrow slightly. COYOTE Mishka loved fucking everything that was going on right then. All of it. "Hey," Mishka said, breaking into a shit-eating grin. "You weren't kidding about the bounty hunter thing, huh." He drew a hunting knife and bent to cut Calann's throat. IZZY Sam jabbed his quarterstaff into the ground, blocking Mishka's angle, and looked down at him. "This is my kill," he said flatly. COYOTE "Oh, sorry. I should clarify. This is a pro bono thing for a friend--" A crossbow bolt whizzed past them, and Mishka ducked and whirled around, catching a glimpse of a hunter reloading her crossbow. He raised his arm defensively and threw up a glittering green-and-gold shield, and the crossbow bolt skittered and shattered across the shield. Mishka realized, right then, he probably ought to stop explaining. Wasn't time for it. "Your kill," he said. "Just gotta watch." He needed to make sure Calann was dead. That's all Joan wanted. IZZY Sam narrowed his eyes a bit, but accepted it. He knelt over Calann, shifting his staff to his back as he pressed one hand to Calann's throat -- black lines spread out from the touch, and Calann struggled once, feebly, then went still. Then Sam pulled a knife from his belt and sliced through the weakened, necrotized tissues, quickly and easily taking the man's head off. A few more crossbow bolts whizzed their way, and when one seemed about to hit Sam as he straightened (tucking Calann's head into his satchel), he threw a hand up and summoned his own rippling, dark blue shield, the bolt sparking gold against it. He seemed to think for just a second, then reached to grab Mishka's wrist and tug on it. COYOTE Mishka blinked. In the instant before Nameless grabbed his wrist, he thought about cracking away. Maybe he could take the guy with him. Mishka had no desire to be hunted down like a fox in the woods. Instead, for some reason, he didn't, and the man's hand closed around his wrist, and Mishka thought, Huh, alright. Sure. He could always crack away later, he figured. IZZY Sam snapped his fingers, and a low roaring sound came from the still-smouldering body of the half-orc. It grew louder, and a large shape burst up in the flames -- a snarling, angry fire elemental, eager to feed on anything flammable. That should keep their backs covered. Sam took off, dragging Mishka along through the woods, towards the river. COYOTE Mishka followed, but-- tugged his wrist, urgently, asking to be let go. IZZY Sam glanced back, let go, and kept moving. The river wasn't far. COYOTE Mishka kept following, curious. Ahead, he could spy a river through the trees. They broke out of the trees onto the bank. Mishka shook out his hand where Sam had touched it, nervous and jittery. IZZY Sam stopped at the bank. No one was pursuing them -- all preoccupied with the fire monster. He looked poised to jump, though the far bank was a good twenty feet away. He offered Mishka his hand, shortly saying, "I can get you across. Then we go separate ways." COYOTE "What? Separate ways? Oh, come on! Let me buy you a fucking drink or something!" IZZY "What?" He seemed incredulous. "No. Why?" He glanced up the hill, towards the fight. COYOTE "I wanna fucking talk to you," Mishka said. "Oh my god. The fuck is your name? Where'd you come from? You made a fire monster thing? I wanna be able to do that. Show me how you did that." IZZY He looked confused. "Sam." He glanced up the hill again, and snapped his fingers urgently, offering his hand. COYOTE Mishka wavered. He started to take the hand, the pulled back, then reached again, then pulled back. His skin itched. He could hear fighting. He didn't want to touch anyone, least of all a stranger who was going to take him some place. "Sorry," Mishka stammered, unnerved, then vanished with a crack. He stepped himself to the other side of the river. He wrapped his arms anxiously around himself to see how Sam would follow. IZZY Sam blinked at the spot where Mishka had been, then looked across the river and blinked again. He shrugged, took a few steps back, cracked his knuckles, then ran full speed at the river -- springing up before he met the water to jump clear across it, further than a human generally could without magic. He kicked up a spray of rocks and dirt under his boots as he landed, bending his knees to take the impact. Then he nodded to Mishka and started off briskly. COYOTE Mishka wavered, unnerved. He rubbed the back of his neck, where it felt like his hair was standing up. He almost started to call out or follow, then decided not to. He took one step back, then another, then turned and walked the opposite direction. Joan would wanna hear about this. Category:Text Roleplay